


making lemonade

by brightclam



Category: Phantom of the Opera (2004)
Genre: F/M, asexual christine? i guess?, but a bittersweet fix it i guess, not a fix it as in the phantom is still sad and christine's relationship with him was fucked, the phantom is only mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-10-06 08:20:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10330274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightclam/pseuds/brightclam
Summary: Raoul and Christine live their life, but the phantom left his mark. Strangely enough, that mark turns out to be good.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write a fix it but the phantom and christine's relationship was not fixable unless I completely rewrote the plot.

\-----------

Christine didn't love the phantom. She couldn't; not when he screamed at her, threatened her, ignored her wishes, put a noose around her beloved’s neck.

 

But.

 

Perhaps she could have loved him, in a different life. His face was no object.

 

She couldn't love him, but she does pity him. He had suffered, over something that wasn't his fault, a defect he had no control over. His suffering does not excuse the suffering he inflicted on others, but she has pity enough for many people.

 

She wishes he hadn't suffered.

 

When her and Raoul leave, make a home in another city with another opera house, they buy a small, pleasant house. She rehearses and performs in the opera house next door, he stays home and writes. 

 

He never was musically inclined, but he can work wonders with words. He's published a book, which becomes very successful. Their kitchen is filled with pastel drapes and vases of pink roses.

 

They're happy.

 

But the pity resurfaces. She remembers him, remembers the bloody result of his suffering. So when she sees the beggar on the street, one of the urchins that beg near the opera house, the pity demands its due.

 

She presses coins into the girls shaking hand. The child grins at her, teeth craggy and dirty, face lined with pain. One of her legs is twisted and useless. Probably a factory accident, a limb caught in merciless machinery.

 

The coins are not enough. 

 

She gestures the girl forwards, wraps her in her expensive coat. The child stares up at her, confused eyes wide with fear. 

 

“Do you have parents?”

 

“No ma'am, they died a year ago. They sent me to an orphanage, but I didn't like it there.”

 

“Would you like to come home with me?”

 

The child stares in wonder.

 

“You mean it?”

 

“Yes, I’d like for you to be warm and safe.”

 

“That sounds nice to me, ma'am.”

 

Raoul doesn't ask questions when she comes home with the child. He just smiles and introduces himself, goes to ready the guest bed while Christine gets her some food.

 

The girl, whose name is Helen, settles in. It takes her months to stop jumping at everything, months for her to stop expecting to be kicked out.

 

She's difficult sometimes, but Christine works through it, and Raoul is eternally patient. He gives Helen rides around the house on his shoulders, lets her sit in his study and play as he writes.

 

One day, when Helen has been with them a year and a half, she looks out the window at a passing family and says casually:

 

“I'd like to have a sibling, I think.”

 

Raoul doesn't pressure her, he never has. He doesn't demand that their second child be carried by her, be of their blood. He finds the address of the nearest orphanage and offers to go with her.

 

It's a dreary building, inside and out. The children look miserable and sad. She's reminded of the phantom, trapped in eternal darkness. These children are trapped in grey; grey clothing, grey walls, grey hopelessness.

 

They walk through the rooms, looking over the children. Some of them come up to them, syrupy sweet, trying to flatter their way into a home.

 

But It's the ones who hide that interest her, the ones who shrink against the walls as they pass. The ones who are more hopeless than the others, the undesirable children who know they won't be adopted. 

 

In the last room, there is a boy. He's one of the oldest children, maybe eight or nine, old enough that his chances of adoption are almost zero. He sits, silent, and stares sightlessly at the wall.

 

As they pass, their guide whispers.

 

“Poor thing’s blind. He's been here for years.”

 

Christine stops, turns back to him. She kneels down in front of him and asks:

 

“Hello. What's your name? 

 

The boy jerks, as if someone choosing to talk to him is shocking.

 

“I'm Alex.”

 

“Hello, Alex, I'm Christine. It's nice to meet you. My husband and I are looking for a big brother for our daughter. Would you like to come home with us?”

 

It takes a couple more repetitions for both Alex and the orphanage staffer to believe that yes, they want him.

 

But they bring him home eventually. Christine buys him a cane with which to test in front of him. Raoul takes him around the house, letting him tap the furniture and making sure he doesn't run into anything, until he's comfortable with the layout. 

 

Helen cheers when she sees him and spends hours reading him her favorite stories.

 

As they grow more economically stable, Christine gives most of the wealth she earns from the opera to charities. She becomes the patron of multiple orphanages. Raoul patronizes the arts, donating to smaller theatres that are open to the general public. 

 

Helen and Alex grow older, content and safe, their disabilities never seen as shameful by their parents. Christine doesn't let anyone who thinks that way near her or her family.

 

And they're happy.

  
She hopes that somewhere, somehow, the phantom is happy too.

**Author's Note:**

> If something in this is ableist, please let me know and I'll fix it.


End file.
